


Lucas & the Happy Eggs & Other Stories

by okapi



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: Chapter 1: Lucas North has an odd dream and a great omelette.Chapter 2: Lucas is having a bad day until he isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Five ways Lucas didn't want his eggs, and one way which might have done](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7264564) by [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit). 



> Happy Birthday, Small Hobbit! 
> 
> Fandom friendship means writing a story about a character you only know from your friend's fic. Small Hobbit has been on a campaign to 'try new things' and I thought the best way to celebrate her and her day was to try a new fandom, hers. This story includes references to just a few of the many ways that Small Hobbit has tortured the character of Lucas North over the years. 
> 
> Thanks to debriswoman for the beta.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Adam turned his back to the bacon frying in the pan.

He sank his hands in his trouser pockets and frowned.

“You don’t look like you slept well, Lucas.”

“No, I didn’t.” Lucas yawned as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “But that smells great.”

He nodded at the two place settings laid.

“Wes?” he inquired.

“At a friend’s,” said Adam.

“He’ll be disappointed he missed the bacon,” said Lucas, trying, and failing, to smile.

“Breakfast will be ready shortly. Have a seat. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I had an odd dream,” said Lucas.

“Nightmare?”

“Yes and no. Do you remember when all we were good for was sitting in a flat, monitoring long distance surveillance equipment?”

“Yes.” Adam turned back to the stove. “Keep talking. I’m listening, but I don’t want the bacon to burn.”

“It was like that, except instead of four screens, there were more than fifty. Each screen was a story. About us. Well, about me, but also us.”

Adam hummed.

Lucas continued.

“It was like someone was watching me. Being scared of loud noises. Being ashamed of my tattoos and scars. Not liking the colour red. My issues with eggs. In one screen, I got the flu. And in another, there were ferret races. And in a third, a scarecrow terrorised me.”

Adam stopped cracking eggs in a bowl and looked over his shoulder. “Scarecrow?”

“With murderous crows,” added Lucas. “They attacked me. Twice.”

Adam stirred the eggs, then poured them into a second pan. “I warned you about reading so much Tolkien before bed, Lucas. But I thought you would dream of dragons. Or, maybe, small hobbits.”

“I wish I had dreamt of dragons and small hobbits. All the screens were playing at once. All the stories were occurring at the same time. Someone, something was controlling them. I couldn’t see what it was, but I knew it was watching me, us.”

“The scarecrow does sound disturbing, but I suppose the ferret races were fun.” Adam sprinkled ham and cheese in the pan with one hand, his other hand was tucked in his trouser pocket.

The breakfast smelled so good and the moment was so warm and tender that Lucas did not want to spoil it by telling Adam that Lucas’ father had taken the money that Lucas had won at the only church fete he was ever permitted to attend and used it to purchase a pair of dining room chairs, chairs so nice that Lucas was never allowed to sit on them.

“There was a lot of cake,” said Lucas. “And some melting snowman biscuits.”

“How about bacon?” asked Adam, dividing the rashers between the two plates.

“A bacon sandwich with brown sauce.”

“Oh, wait.” Adam folded the eggs over, then flipped them. Then he pinched the yellow mass in two with his spatula and put a half on each plate.

“There was a lot of hurt, but you were always part of the comfort. We were even married in a few screens,” said Lucas. His cheeks warmed. “Wes was my step-son,” he added with a genuine smile.

Adam poured orange juice into two wine glasses.

“Fancy,” observed Lucas.

“Wait, let me get the napkins.”

Lucas ate a forkful of eggs. “This is the best omelette I’ve ever had.”

“Best is yet to come,” said Adam excitedly. “Lucas…”

And Lucas knew, by the small, velvet box that Adam produced from his pocket, that Adam was right and that the best part of his odd dream was about to come true.


	2. Rainy Day

Lucas groaned as sheets of wind-swept rain hit him, soaking him instantly.

Of course, he’d left his umbrella on the tube.

It hadn’t been raining when he’d left the office! He grumbled and fiddled uselessly with the collar of his jacket.

His flat wasn’t only a five-minute walk from the station, but five minutes in the storm, along with a nice spray from a taxi that had screeched to a halt at a corner, meant that he arrived at his door resembling nothing so much as a drowned rat.

A fine end to a day spent on the Grid, looking, looking, looking until his eyes burned, then glazed, then burned anew and discovering in the last twenty minutes of his shift that the person he’d been looking for had been taken into custody in foreign country earlier that morning.

So, in a nutshell, a complete waste of eight hours.

Lucas dug in his pockets for his keys.

Oh, no!

Where were his keys?

Had he left them at the office? Dropped them outside? Or on the tube?

Lucas rattled the doorknob to his flat. He had definitely had his keys this morning or he wouldn’t have been able to lock the door.

Ugh. He had visions of a lengthy weight for a locksmith and an obnoxious bill to follow and the hassle of having to get another set of keys made and the anxiety of wonder where the old keys were. Was there something more sinister afoot?

Suddenly, the door opened.

“Oh, look at you! Did you forget your umbrella? Well, come in. Stand here and drip while I get a towel.”

Adam?

Lucas frowned, then inhaled.

Something smelled wonderful.

Adam returned, all warm smile and fluffy terrycloth.

Lucas took the towel from him and began rubbing his face and neck.

“Thanks for lending me your keys,” said Adam. “Cakes are almost ready.”

“Cake?”

“I thought you might have forgot after the shitty day you’ve had. I volunteered to make a chocolate cake for the bake sale tomorrow at Wes’ school. Our oven is on the fritz, so you said I could use yours. I made two, of course.” He waggled eyebrows. “So, your mission, should you choose to accept it is: hot shower, cake, takeout, and more cake.”

Lucas returned Adam’s smile. “Accepted,” he said, letting the day’s awfulness roll off him like, well, water off a duck’s back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
